Music That Shouldn't Be Heard
by westpoints
Summary: [complete] A musical in four parts, with music by Tegan and Sara, and Cursive. Starring Sharpay Evans and a certain basketball player.
1. Downtown

Ah yes, I am back, however, not with Dear Person Whom I am Forced to Write to because...well. I've hit a snag. And if you've ever read The Game (In the Grey's Anatomy section), then you know what happens when I start posting what I haven't completely finished yet.

So. Here's my remedial teenage angst romance thing, because right now I'm obsessed with Sharpay right now. It's a series songfics, by my two musing artists, Tegan & Sara and Cursive.

Have some fun. And I hope I've kept Sharpay within the parameters of her character.

_Disclaimer: Not Mine_

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If you're gonna get up, you might as well get up with me  
If you're going downtown, I might as well be on your way

By all accounts, this shouldn't be happening. Sharpay Evans should not still be awake at one in the morning. Not even in her own room, which she isn't. In her room, that is. She was picked up from her house a few hours ago to go "see a movie" and wound up here._  
_

_And I sit all night, I sit still all night  
I won't tell one soul, I won't tell one soul_

_  
_They shouldn't do this. They shouldn't do this, not because it's morally wrong on so many levels (not that either of them care), but just because it's wrong.

Because they hate each other. Because at some point during the week, one of them snaps and they fight and suddenly they're...here, in a room, and it just feels so wrong afterwards.

_I just can't get it straight, you see, and oh well  
That distraction inside of me, oh well  
I just can't get it straight, you see, and oh well_

He was a blockhead basketball player. She was a self-obsessed Drama Princess. This did not set the stage for _Romeo and Juliet_. Maybe _Pride and Prejudice_. Only a more R-rated version.

He mumbles in his sleep, she notes grimly. It's all about basketball, or running, or _something_ within ninety degrees of standing. Oh, and one instance of a gay octopus.

_It's fine by you, I am fine by you  
I won't tell one soul, I won't tell one soul_

They should stop. They should stop, because it's wrong, she knows, it's so wrong that even the idea of OH GOD, she wasn't going to go there, because that's not wrong, because nothing that good should ever be wrong. Because when they're here, together, alone, nothing ever seems wrong. They're not mad at each other.

But when they pass each other in the halls, he winks at her (and honestly, who winks?) and turns to his friends and says something and they laugh, and she _knows_ they're laughing at her.

She doesn't care that they laugh. Later that week, they'll meet up somewhere and he'll whisper in her ear, hushquiet, so that she almost can't hear him, that he's sorry.

And it's those times when Sharpay wishes they could tell, but telling is out of the question, _because_ he laughs when the others are around, _because_ she doesn't care, _because_ it's so wrong, and even a rendition of "Breaking Free" won't save them from the fury of the crowd._  
_

_If you're going downtown, take me with you  
I don't care. If I'm gonna get up, I'll just admit it  
I only get up for you. If I'm gonna get up  
I'll just admit it I only get up for you_

Where to start? Where to end? By anyone who was counting, it could start with _Twinkle Town_, because people were bound to be sentimental like that, but it never starts with a huge landmark, it starts with a small thing that no one ever notices that snowballs into this, this thing that has Sharpay wondering at one in the morning about how it starts.

It actually does start with a fight, though not between them. It's between him and another girl that she prefers not to think about, though she tells herself that it's not because this girl is with him. It starts with a fight, and it ends with a pity party, and now there's just a whole lot of epilogues, and now she's feeling dirty and used. Oh, and stupid because she's just compared their...their thing to literature.

She wants to throw up, but that's only side detail, because there's nothing for her to actually throw up. She wants to know if they'll ever be free enough so that she can stay the whole night. She wants to know if he thinks about her as much as she thinks about him, whether in the blinding-hatred way that they always feel, or in the terrible-driving-need way that they find themselves in a few times a week.

She wants to know if he needs her more than he needs that girl, more than he needs a public girlfriend for his image, more than he needs a chaste relationship to keep his reputation clean. She wonders if he just keeps that girl around because he won't admit to Sharpay that he doesn't love her. Or Sharpay, for that matter. He doesn't love either of them, he's actually fallen for that really fat girl who wants to be cheerleader. But she doubts that.

_If you're going downtown, if you're going downtown,_

_Yeah we can...Yeah we can..._

He blinks, and she starts. She isn't expecting him to wake up, but then again, he isn't expecting her to stick around, so she guesses they're equal here. He mutters something about the morning, and she smiles, softly, because she knows he's doing it on purpose. She tells him that he's stupid. He snorts, but they can't say any more, because they'll get in a fight, and they can't afford to get in a fight now.

She really wants to hit him because he's caught her at one in the morning in his room, pondering the existentialisms of their twisted relationship.

He glares at her, silently ordering her out of his room and house, while she glares back, silently telling him that she doesn't want to stay here, anyway.

And Jesus Christ, she thinks to herself as she begins her walk home a few blocks away, who'd want to stay in a room with someone who talks about gay octopuses in his sleep?

Or was it gay octopi?

Chad Danforth has weird dreams.

_And I sit all night, I sit still all night  
I won't tell one soul, I won't tell one soul_

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Mmhmm. The song is called "Downtown." It's by Tegan and Sara. It's pretty much the awesome.

I have three more lined up here, one more by Tegan and Sara, and two by Cursive.

Oh, yes. Review.


	2. The Recluse

And now we see his side of the whole thing. The beginning, I mean. Yeah.

Mmhmm. Oh yes, **Rachel**, I usually stay away from song fics, too, so I'm glad that you like mine!

_Disclaimer: Huh? You mean it has the possibility of...no? dammit._

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I wake alone, in a woman's room I hardly know.  
I wake alone- and pretend that I am finally home.  
The room is littered with her books and notebooks.  
I imagine what they say, like, 'Shoo fly, don't bother me,'

_  
_The sheets are silk. There are silk sheets on the bed, which has a silk comforter, and he's lying naked underneath them. Chad Danforth is naked under silk sheets, a silk comforter, on an unfamiliar bed. It takes him a few seconds to catch up with _that_ thought. Okay. So he's in someone else's bed. The bedside lamp is on beside him, and by it he can see that it's five in the morning. Someone's taking a shower in the bathroom.

He looks around, and notes the disorganized stacks of books littering the beige carpet. Beige. Who has beige carpets when they're in high school? "Broadway Musicals of the 1940's," he mutters to himself, reading off the spine of the nearest book.

He slumps back, and stares up at the ceiling, noticing that it's covered in posters. It's filled with musicals, darker than the pale cream walls. "Wicked," he says to himself. And then he knows whose room he's in._  
_

_And I can hardly get myself out of her bed.  
for fear of never lying in this bed again.  
Oh Christ, I'm not that desperate. Oh no- oh God- I am._

_  
_He wants to get up, he wants to throw off the covers and run out, leave immediately, he wants to just _get away from this place_, but he can't. He can't bring himself to get out of the bed. A few seconds later, when the panic of fear has calmed, he sets his mind on remembering last night. There was alcohol, obviously. The pain radiating from his brain makes that obvious. And...and a fight. He remembers yelling.

Yelling. With—at. Taylor. Was it Taylor? Yes. He remembers something about arrogance. Something about basketball. Or maybe that's just him talking through his hangover. Maybe just fighting in general. Maybe just the final realization that they're over now, and that it's never going to change.

But how has he ended up here?_  
_

_How'd I end up here to begin with? I don't know.  
Why do I start what I can't finish?  
Oh please, don't barrage me with questions to all those ugly answers.  
My ego's like my stomach- it keeps shitting what I feed it.  
But maybe I don't want to finish anything anymore..  
maybe I can wait in bed 'til she comes home. And whispers._

_  
_And then...there was vodka. Probably. The inside of his mouth feels like glue has been poured in it. He feels low.

Low. Low, low, low. And dear god, out of ALL the people possible for this to happen with.

The shower turns off, and he swallows, hard. Was she sober last night? Probably. Damn.

Judgment, thy name is...

Sharpay Evans walks out of the steaming bathroom, toweling off her hair. He fights hard not to notice that she only has a robe on, and not a very tightly tied—damn it. She doesn't start when she sees that he's awake.

"You should have been gone by now," she says flippantly. He licks his lips.

"I don't have any clothes," he says, stupidly. She points, a bit angry, at the foot of the bed, where his jeans and shoes are folded. He still has to ask, though, "Did we...um. Did I..."

"You were too smashed to be able to..." she smirks. "perform. Of course, that's just a theater term." He grimaces. "But you did throw up all over your t-shirt, and ruin my Louis Vuitton bag in the process. I washed the salvageable bits for you." He sits up, making sure that the soft fabric settles around his waist. Sharpay flashes one more evil smile, before anticipating his next question. "Boxers were not one of the salvageable."

_  
"you're in my web now - I've come to wrap you up tight 'til it's time to bite down."_

_  
_"Oh god," he moans, rubbing his eyes in despair. He stops for a second. "Why did you—"

"Because you ruined my handbag and you broke up with Taylor and were hitting on me, and you were stinking drunk, and by the way, you talk in your sleep," she hisses. Sharpay takes up the jeans and jabs them in his face. He gulps.

"I do not." Then the full outburst hits him. "Did we actually break up?" She rolls her eyes.

"Yes, you did. And by Monday, all the melodrama will be over, and you'll be back together, so put the damn jeans on and get. Out. Of. My room."_  
_

_I wake alone in a woman's room I hardly know.  
I wake alone – and pretend that I am finally home._

_  
_He leaves quickly, because she's about to slash his face with a CD (Original Cast Recording of Avenue Q, he sees, the horror fixing every gruesome detail in his mind). But he shows back up on her doorstep a few minutes later, and as she raises her eyebrows, prepared to slam something in his face that isn't made of wood, he kisses her, impulsively, and his mouth doesn't feel like glue anymore.

She slaps him. "_What_ are you doing, Danforth?"

"I'm saying thank you. I'm not going to tell you during school, am I?" he whispers, his arrogance sliding back under his skin.

"Just saying it would be sufficient," Sharpay snaps. "And you have a girlfriend, Don Juan."

"Not anymore." He tries to kiss her again, but she warily leans out of the way. "Oh come on, I'm trying to say sorry, too."

"For what?"

"Well, to use a theater term..."

And he's in her room again, admiring the posters on the ceiling. To an extent. Well. Admiring something._  
_

_Home_

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Ah, beautiful, beautiful symbolism. Maybe.

This song is called "The Recluse" It's by Cursive. Which is pretty freaking awesome, too.

Review.


	3. I Know I Know I Know

Hmm. Long chapter. Actually, I think this is supposed to be a breakdown of some sort in thought and writing and stuff. Maybe I'm trying too hard to make this sound intelligent. Anyway.

Sorry about the delays, this chapter has been worked over at least ten times...

Strange, Rachel, because both your questions are answered in this chapter. Hmm. Unfortunately, these lyrics don't quite fit the scene(s), but I wanted a fluff ending. So.

_Disclaimer: HA_

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From hundreds of miles, yeah, you cry like a baby  
You plead with me, shout, scream, tell me I'm staying  
I know I know I know, I'm still your love  
Back from the last place that I wanted to fake you  
Laugh with me, shout, scream now tell me you're staying  
I know I know I know, you're still my love

They're clawing desperately at each other, too angry to even speak, but not fighting. Fighting would most definitely not involve what they're doing now; only a few thin layers of clothing are keeping them from desecrating public property. But they can't be seen, can't possibly be seen, so after a few seconds, Sharpay reluctantly peels her face off Chad's and exhales in one, shaky breath.

"We have to stop," she whispers against him, and she almost cries from the sentimental, beautiful _crap_ that she feels.

"This is wrong," he replies. "This is so wrong."

He doesn't say it, but her forehead beats against his chest in a sort of Morse admission. "Taylor."

"Yeah." She doesn't bother telling him that he should break up with her, because he won't, and she doesn't really want him to, either. Taylor makes them at least a little calm, a little less volatile. If they were free to be together...

_The same as I love you, you'll always love me too  
This love isn't good unless it's me and you_

Ugh. Sentimental and beautiful _crap_, and it has taken over her mind now. She steps back definitely and carefully wipes the lipstick from the corner of his mouth in the sickeningly _couple_ way that almost kills her.

She drags him out of the photo booth, makes sure to grab the roll, and stuffs it in the nearest trash bin. "I say earrings," she tells him discreetly, not touching him. Even if she has made him drive all the way out to the downtown mall, she won't acknowledge him so blatantly.

"No, no earrings."

"Why not?"

"I got her earrings for her birthday, and Valentine's Day, and last Christmas, and her birthday before that," he sighs. "She's picking up on the pattern."

"Well then." They walk in silence past an American Eagle. "Give me a second in here," Sharpay says quietly, almost unable to be heard, pointing to the tiny store tucked next to the offending mall staple. "Hathaway's has some pretty good stuff. I know the owner."

She can feel Chad's stare. "You're being quiet."

"Don't milk it, Danforth."_  
_

_Box after box and you're still by my side  
The weather is changing and breaking my stride  
I know I know I know, it's just this day  
House after house, just like car after car  
You see club after club and it all seems so far  
I know I know I know what else are we here for_

"Sharpay!" A voice yells from the recesses of the shop, and she pushes out a hand to keep him from following her.

"Stay out," she commands, her slight anger at him slipping back.

She knows she's going to end up buying it for him for Taylor, and it kills her. She knows he doesn't want her to, and she knows that he wouldn't dream of using her for the money, but she still feels...horrid. (_Horrid_. A word used by delicate women who fainted at the idea of blood and freshened up throughout the day with talcum powder and changed for dinner. What is it doing in _her _mind?)

_The same as I love you, you'll always love me too  
This love isn't good unless it's me and you_

"Jordan."

And in a few sentences, she explains, without too many details, why she is in a jewelry store buying something for...not her.

"If you ask me," Jordan says, running a hand through her obviously dyed red hair.

"I didn't," Sharpay snaps, her fingers tripping lightly over several rings. "Jordan, did you make this one yourself?" She holds up a light silver one with a simple love knot in it.

"What? Yes, of course. Anyway, if you ask me—"

"I didn't. Don't think he should give her a ring, though. Might seem _too _forward, and God knows we don't need that."

"There's some perfectly nice bracelets on the rack, you don't have to manhandle—I mean touch—everything," Jordan says reproachfully. "Look, Sharpay, all I'm saying is, if you want my opinion—"

"I don't," she says. "I like this one." She picks up a gold necklace and holds it up to the light. "How many karats?"

"14, I always work with 14 on necklaces."

"Huh. And this emerald in the middle, paste or real?"

"Well, not paste but..."

"And stop trying to tell me what you think."

_Stick your hands inside of my pockets  
Keep them warm while I'm still here  
Tell them this love hasn't changed me, hasn't changed me at all_

It's sick, the look on Taylor's face when he presents her with the necklace. Absolutely sick, and not because it's pure happiness, but because it makes Sharpay want to scream.

It's because she actually wants that necklace for herself (Well, not really, the coloring would clash horribly), and she can't even imagine how that would turn out.

It's because she is _sick_ of trying to get around Ryan and sneaking back through the downstairs window and explaining why she looks so damn exhausted in the morning.

It's because in the back of her mind, when they're together and she's just dying to say something, anything, to keep them from going the same way they always do, she wants to tell him to just break up with Taylor if he's still that unhappy. And then the rush of the secret comes, and she doesn't care for a second.

It's because...really, it's all because...it's all because when...and...it's really all because she worries that one day it will all be gone, and she doesn't want that day to come. Now she can't even think a coherent sentence.

And it's because when she first realizes this, watching Taylor open her Christmas present picked out by her boyfriend's dirty mistress, she doesn't want to end it now so that they won't have to end it later._  
_

_Last night I was writing about you  
I know my screaming and shouting won't keep you  
I know I know I know, you're still my love  
I wake up to the sound of you working  
You're one room right over, stressing and loving me  
I know I know I know, be still my love_

"You're quiet today," he says, suddenly, when they're at the mall again. "You've been quiet lately. Ice Princess lost her edge?"

"Shut up."

"Oo, I see she still has her touch."

She wants to yell at him. She wants to scream that whatever he thinks might work on all the other girls in the school is utter crap. That he's not quite as charming as he thinks he is. That he really should cut all his hair off and see if it will grow back into a decent size. That seriously, if they wanted to continue this any further, he needs to at least _try_ for some civility.

But then she'd be lying._  
_

_The same as I love you, you'll always love me too  
This love isn't good unless it's me and you_

And so they make their way to the food court, almost sadly, where he buys her a giant pack of fries that she refuses and he eats and she steals about half of.

And it's so ridiculously _stupid_ that she's still here.

Because one day it will be gone, and then they can't do anything about it anymore.

One day Taylor will do something, anything, really, and then he's going to have to end it.

And she'll be relieved, really. She will be, because then she won't have to put up with his insufferable insensitivity. She will. Be. Happy. Because she sure as Hell isn't now.

And it strikes her that she _really _isn't happy, but she doesn't want to get out of it._  
_

_Stick your hands inside of my pockets  
Keep them warm while I'm still here  
Tell them this love hasn't changed me, hasn't changed me at all  
_

So she's sitting up late. Again. In his room. Wondering, again, if he's thinking about her. Like an utter sap. Wondering why she lets herself go on, when she's _clearly_ better off without him. Wondering when the endings are coming, if there are multiple endings, and how she will exact her revenge if more than one epilogue is in there.

Wondering how the Hell she snagged lead role this year with all the angst in her brain.

(Angst. Nice teenage word, though not even Kelsi would dream of using it in conversation)

Wondering how the Hell she's going to explain why she's still here when he wakes up in a few minutes; he's muttering about a gay octopus again.

_Stick your heart inside of my chest  
Keep it warm here while we rest  
Tell them this love hasn't changed me, hasn't changed me at all_

His eyes ease open, and he blinks several times, allowing his night vision to kick in before his mind registers.

"You're still here." And he's not being obnoxious or arrogant or stupid. He's just stating a fact.

"Yeah. Chad?" She makes sure that his entire focus is on her, completely, totally on her, and she whispers, so quietly he can barely make out the words on her lips.

"I love you." And she sits back, gauging his reaction, seeing if he'll mention Taylor, because if he does, it's gone. It's gone and done and over and she'll go home and most certainly not cry.

"Well," he says. "I...I love you, too."

"So."

"So."

"That's that."_  
_

_The same as I love you, you'll always love me too  
This love isn't good unless it's me and you_

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Yep. THEY R IN LURVE. Thought I'd bring in an outsider's perspective (well...attempt to, at least) about this whole thing, and also involve some sort of transition. Between the beginning, which, I guess by the holidays mentioned in this chapter, would place this relationship at beginning...sometime the first semester of senior year. And anyway, without the transition, I can't bring an end.

"I Know I Know I Know" by Tegan and Sara.

One more chapter, and the resaon I fluffed up this chapter is because...you'll see.

Review


	4. Driftwood: A Fairy Tale

Wow. This is by far my most unpopular story ever. Not even _Not Quite Sure_ has reached this low. Hmmmm...

Ending. Yep. And Warning ahead: Not a very happy one.

This song? Almost completely irrelevant, except for the part where it is. You'll have to listen to it to get where the lyrics fall.

_Disclaimer: Nope. Still not._

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He swam steadily for most of the day.  
Suddenly he found himself approaching an enormous floating cavern.  
Could it be an island?  
Pinocchio looked closer and he saw two huge rows of sharp,  
yellow teeth and he realized his mistake.

_  
_They're standing. Apart. And not angry, and not in love. As such. They're not having a movie-scene heart-to-heart that marks these sort of standing-aparts.

They're just standing, simply because it's easier than sitting on the concrete outside the theater.

And he wants to say something. He wants to tell her that he loves her. But he won't. Because it's gone. It's over and gone, and no matter how many times he says it, she won't return it the same way she has even a week ago.

Because it's real now. It's real. Graduation practice is in an hour, and it's real now that they'll go to different parts of the country, and he suddenly can't bring himself to do anything about it. He can't even thank her for the countless times she has saved him from Taylor's anger, only to let him go back to his real girlfriend a few days later.

He wants to say something poetic, but he can't, which is strange because he, Chad Danforth, can always come up with something to say to a girl._  
_

_So he would sulk and drink and mope  
and cross his arms and hope to die.  
And then a fairy came one night  
to bring this sorry boy to life.  
She pulled some strings  
and spun him about.  
That boy sprang up  
and began to shout,_

But there's nothing he can say here that's more romantic than anything she's already seen on a stage. He can't say anything like "You brought me alive," even though he does, stupidly, and she glares at him.

"Don't lie," she hisses. "Don't you dare lie. I don't know _what_ I was thinking last year, starting this stupid thing with you, but I was _not_ expecting a sappy attempt at love poetry a week before graduation."

"Sharpay, I'm—"

"Why are we even out here, Danforth? Why? What could you _possibly_ have to say to me now?"

"Because..." Sharpay huffs.

"That's what I thought." She turns, almost heartbreakingly slow, and stalks back into the theater._  
_

_"My arms, my legs, my heart, my face they are alive!"  
And she would cry, "Liar, liar!  
What have I done?  
You're no lover, and I'm no fighter."_

_  
_"Sharpay! Sharpay!" Chad leans against the prickly stucco wall and breathes out, angry.

He wants to break up with Taylor. Really. Seriously. But no, not really, and she knows that, and it's amazing that he can still think straight. It's like Bolton and his stupid musicale.

Taylor's a good person. A nice, caring awesome person who would barely touch a beer, much less go to a party with him. She's innocent and pure. And she loves him.

And Sharpay's...Sharpay is wild. She's insane, she could probably beat him up and still look great for the party, and she's funny, in a crazy, perpetually angry kind of way, and she's nice. Really, honestly, when she's tired and a bit sad, she's nice. And...well, he thinks she loves him.

And when Sharpay is sad, he kisses her and tells her stories, funny stories, stories about Bolton and the rest of the basketball team that she despises, and she doesn't laugh, not really, unless something horrible happens to one of the players, but she's happy. Maybe. He's pretty sure that she is.

But Taylor buries herself in a book, or works in the lab, and he gives her some space, because he loves _her_, he's sure, and he doesn't know enough about what she's doing to help out, and it's almost amazing that he's put up with it this long. Put up with being stupid around her. But then, it's not really amazing, after all.

He knows he's not really sure about anything._  
_

_(The story goes on)_

_  
_"What?" Sharpay asks the next day, having been dragged out again before practice.

"I just wanted to talk. We can still talk, can't we?"_  
_

_So he would buy her things and kiss her hair  
to show he was for real.  
And she would take those gifts and kisses  
though just stringing him along.  
She knew about those wooden boys-  
it's an empty love to fill the void.  
"Pinocchio! Oh boy, how your nose has grown!"  
So he would cry, "Liar, liar!  
I'll prove it to you!"  
But then it grew  
He had grown tired of her  
So it was true_

He holds up a chain, a silver chain, and instead of squealing with delight like he's sure she will, she simply ignores it. "Danforth. Stop it."

"Shar—"

"Shut up. You're going to get tired of me. I'm going to get tired of you. Because no matter what we do, it's always going to come to this, this...this _stupidity_. This arguing. And I really don't want to end my high school with a flaming row."

"But—"

"You don't love me. I don't love you. You're not even in love with Taylor, although you think you are, and I'm sure that, if you two work at it, you'll get married and have lots of curly-haired tots who are smart and can play basketball. Passably."

"Shar—"

"Now, I'm going to go back inside. And we're not going to talk. Ever. Again. Do you understand me?" She doesn't wait for a reply.

_He left her apartment  
And he walked all night long  
'til he was stopped by the shore of the ocean.  
But still he walked on, amongst the whales  
and the waves, and screamed  
"Liar, liar!"  
And his wooden body floated away.  
He just drifted away._

_  
_And so graduation comes to pass, and he doesn't see much of her, and then the reception, with the bad music and the cheese cubes on toothpicks, consists of making rounds with Taylor and promising to keep in touch with every single person in the school.

And the one person he wants to see makes a point not to talk.

And he's numb afterwards, painfully numb, a paradox, he realizes after he thinks it, and then he realizes it's a word he has picked up from Sharpay.

And he wonders, really, how they have managed to get here without killing each other.

He wonders if she's thinking about him the same way he's thinking about her.

He wonders if, in ten years, they'll even remember each other. Which is stupid; of course they will. High school is the greatest four years of your lives, the adults always say.

He wonders if he should feel torn. Because Sharpay wouldn't feel torn. Sharpay thinks that feeling torn is a waste of time that could be spent rehearsing...or something. And really, it is about him and Sharpay, and if he feels torn about her, then obviously...

Well, obviously what? It's over now. It's gone. It's just Taylor now. Just sweet, awesome, nice, beautiful Taylor who is ten thousand times smarter than he is and doesn't really know that she shows it off all the time.

At around three in the morning, he's still sitting up, waiting for something to happen. In the back of his mind, he knows that he's waiting for Sharpay to come over, but he knows she won't. He knows she's not that stupid.

And suddenly he hates her for making him feel this way, hates her for making him so guilty, for cheating on Taylor, and he grips that silver necklace that's been sitting on his desk, tightly, tightly between his fingers until it leaves red marks that don't fade in a few minutes.

And now he hates her.

Hate, which is the opposite of love.

And just as attractive._  
_

_And now I wonder how I was made...  
my arms, my legs, my heart, my face,  
my name is Driftwood._

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I realize that Chad probably isn't this intellectual, but come on. He just got stomped on by Sharpay!

I love this song. "Driftwood: A Fairytale"? Cursive is genius. Pinocchio rip-offs have never been better.

Anyway. Yes, that's the end, and unfortunately, I have no plans on writing any more of these in this series, or in general, because songfics are, and always will be, a PAIN.

But. You should still review.


End file.
